Out of His Head
by daughter-of-Myou
Summary: After saving Optimus from cybonic plague, Bumblebee finds himself tormented by nightmares. The voice of Megatron makes its presence known inside his head, and attempts to control his body so that it might return to its own. Rated 'T' for mild violence. FINISHED
1. Picture of Health

_Obey my will!_

Bumblebee snapped online, jolting from recharge as though he'd received an electric shock. For a moment that seemed to last a stellar-cycle; he could see nothing but a cramped, suffocating blackness – it smothered his sensory circuits, jamming his processor – before, gradually, vaguely familiar shapes began to peer through the dark. As the ceiling of his room in the Autobot base slowly swam into focus, Bumblebee let out a silent sigh and raised one hand to touch the smooth metal plains of his face.

That dream…again. He sat up gingerly, wheezing, trying to wipe his mind of the image that had clawed at his dreams for so many nights now. Megatron, lying in stasis in the depths of the Nemesis, hooked up to spark support, his battered body seeming to waver and pulse as Bumblebee's vision rolled and pitched like the deck of a ship on stormy seas. And that voice… Bumblebee shook his head, trying to forget.

Something clenched inside his chest, as if self-aware and conscious of his attempts to discard it. He doubled over, a strangled whine escaping his throat, and waited for the pain to pass. He knew the cycle now – first, the dream; then, agony. As he waited, fighting the instinct to moan and gasp, it crossed his mind that the cycle was perhaps something he should discuss with Ratchet. After all – nightmares were intense, he knew from the aftermath of his experiences at Tyger Pax, but they weren't supposed to _hurt_.

After the pain had eased enough for him to breathe normally, Bumblebee attempted to rise to his feet. Even the simple act of standing presented more of a challenge than he knew it should – he had to support himself on the nearby wall in order to remain upright. He took a moment to ensure his stabilisers were in full working order, trying to clear his head.

_Pathetic._

Bumblebee tensed, staring around with dilated optics. It was that voice again – outside the dream?

_I see now why you've yet to be awarded warrior class. Not too bright, are you?_

The yellow Autobot scanned fearful eyes across the interior of his room. He was alone; nothing was out of place, except for Bumblebee's sense of security.

Who are you? he asked, in a series of uncertain electronic beeps.

A threatening silence met his audio receptors, as he had hoped. Still, he couldn't shake the unsettling feeling that had gripped him since awakening from recharge. It was similar to the sensation of being watched – but strangely different, in a way that he couldn't even attempt to explain. Inward, somehow.

The corridors of the Autobot base were silent and dark. Though he knew that the humans had returned to their homes megacycles ago and that the others were probably asleep, the absence of life still managed to unnerve him. He headed through into the command centre, his footsteps on the panelled floor seeming unnaturally loud, hoping to head out for a quick drive and get some fresh air into his systems.

The lights were still on in the command centre, much to his surprise. Stepping cautiously inside, he saw Ratchet crouching on the floor beside the GroundBridge controls. His fellow Autobot seemed preoccupied – too focused on what looked like diagnostic procedures to immediately notice Bumblebee's presence.

"And what are you doing up and about?" Ratchet asked all of a sudden, only momentarily averting his narrow optics from his previous task, before sliding free the control panel's cover. Bumblebee faltered, unsure of how much to say. Ratchet wouldn't tell Optimus, would he?

Something's wrong with me, he confided in the medic.

Ratchet raised an eyebrow at him. "Oh please, Bumblebee," he grumbled, before returning to the GroundBridge's exposed circuitry. "You're a picture of health. If anything, you've been watching too many of the humans'…oh, what do they call them now…_science fiction _movies."

Bumblebee folded his arms and gave a whine of protest, irritated by Ratchet's stubborn refusal to understand the children. Normally, he would defend the humans – but right now he had other things on his mind.

"It was just a nightmare, Bumblebee," the medic replied in lofty tones, as he hunched over the tangled wires and cables. "Go back to sleep – and don't let me catching you wandering about like this again. Even a young 'bot like you needs your rest."

Disheartened, the scout shrugged his shoulders and silently headed back to his room. He passed Arcee's empty room on the way; for some reason, she had taken to sleeping in Jack's garage lately. As he shuffled through the lightless corridor, he found himself vaguely wondering if Bulkhead would ever follow suit and decide to stay with Miko. The resident ex-Wrecker's snoring was definitely something he could do without.

Maybe Ratchet's right, Bumblebee thought tiredly as he sat down atop his bed. He was too tired to remember the pain – after all; pain, once passed, never seems as prominent as it did while at full strength. Somewhat comforted, he lay down and shuttered his optics. Maybe it _was _just a dream.

_You think I am dream, scout? Hah!_

Bumblebee covered his audio receptors with both hands, flipping onto his side. You're not real, he thought fearfully. Leave me alone.

_Oh, I'm very real. You want me to leave you alone? Trust me, scout – you're never going to be alone again._


	2. A Glitch Called Megatron

"You okay, 'Bee?"

The black-and-yellow muscle car snapped from his daze, almost surprised to see Raf staring down at him in concern. The human nudged his glasses as he waited for a reply, perched uncertainly in Bumblebee's passenger seat. They were parked at the edge of a ravine overlooking the base – the usual spot where they came to play videogames while the scout was not on duty.

I haven't been sleeping, he replied dismissively. He stared out over the dusty canyon, for once glad that his vehicle mode lacked faceplates that might betray what was really bothering him.

Rafael, as usual, seemed to read his mind. "It's about what you saw in Megatron's head, isn't it?" he asked, fiddling with the wireless controller on his lap. Their game was all but forgotten now – not that the scout had seemed particularly focused while playing it in the first place. "Kaon…and Optimus."

You could say that, Bumblebee muttered. He slowly revolved his steering wheel, tyres cutting grooves in the sand, distracted.

Noticing the lowered pitch of his partner's mechanical voice, Raf arranged his expression into a reassuring smile and linked both hands behind his head. "Well, I'd be pretty scared too if Megatron tried to slice and dice me like that," he laughed.

Bumblebee tensed at the name, something tightening deep inside his circuitry. When Raf's attempt at humour was met by a deathly silence, the human awkwardly lowered his hands again and stared self-consciously out of the passenger window. The scout watched him apologetically, uncomfortable. He lowered his window a fraction, hoping to clear some of the stuffy air between himself and the human.

Raf…I think I'm getting sick, he said.

"Sick?" Raf repeated nervously. He thought of Optimus in the med bay, weakened by the plague that had almost cost him his life, and Arcee, infected by Dark Energon not long after he'd met her. He shook his head, not liking those images. "Sick how?"

I…I don't know, replied Bumblebee; I just…don't feel like myself anymore.

Raf shuffled forwards, anxious. "Have you talked to Ratchet?"

Yeah, the scout huffed; he thought I was playing around – said it's all in my head.

"Maybe it's just a bug or something," Raf suggested, tracing the length of Bumblebee's dashboard with his eyes. "You know, a glitch in your system."

_And who exactly does that human think he's calling a glitch?_

Bumblebee lurched backward in reverse, unable to keep his horn from blaring out in his surprise. Raf, thrown forwards from the abrupt movement, stared out of the windshield in shock as he searched for the source of Bumblebee's sudden fear.

"Whoa!" he gasped, attempting to scramble back into the passenger seat. He sank low into its depths, as if trying to hide. "What's wrong? Decepticons?"

The scout eased to a halt in the sand, unable to breathe. If he was in robot mode right about now, he was certain that his servos would be shaking. A few miles away, he detected a speeding energy signature – an Autobot one – but up here his scanners told him that they were completely alone. In the conventional sense, anyway.

_Oh, I'm sorry – did I startle you?_

Bumblebee turned his steering wheel sharply and jerked forward into drive, pulling a swift u-turn on the edge of the canyon. Raf clung to the arms of his passenger seat, terrified, but the scout breathed not a word of explanation as he sped across the plateau toward a dirt road that would take them to his comrade.

_The silent treatment, is it? How quaint._

"Bumblebee – what's with you?" Raf asked, staring demandingly at his partner's frantic steering wheel. Still Bumblebee said nothing as he pressed his accelerator pedal to the floor. His suspension groaned in protest as he tore along the rocky dirt road, but he paid it no heed: his only instinct was to get Rafael someplace safe as quickly as possible.

A dark speck appeared on the shimmering horizon, moving faster than a scraplet out of the Pit. It was Arcee – complete with a rather confused-looking Jack. Bumblebee didn't slow down; it was only when the two Autobots almost collided that he slammed on his brakes. Arcee pounced into robot mode and leaped to the side to avoid a crash, catapulting Jack into the air but catching him around the middle before he could hit the dirt. Arcee landed heavily on both feet as Bumblebee screeched to a halt; she set the gibbering human down on the ground before straightening up, folding her sleek arms beneath her chestplate with eyebrows raised.

"Mind explaining why you felt the need to nearly run me off the road?" she asked smoothly, resting her weight on one leg. Beside her, Jack wrenched the helmet off his head and sat down weakly in the dirt.

Bumblebee flipped open his passenger door in response. Uncertainly but without complaint, Rafael clambered out of his partner. Arcee, he began shakily; can you take Raf back to the base for me?

The blue Autobot cast him a suspicious expression. "Why – what's the matter?" she countered his question with one of her own. She looked him up and down – not that his height was anything spectacular in vehicle mode – and transferred one hand to her hip. "Is everything alright, Bumblebee?"

The scout closed his passenger door, fully aware that the eyes of both humans and his fellow Autobot were scrutinising his every move. I'm fine, he lied. He rolled back in reverse, spinning to face away from the others. What else could he say – that he was slowly losing his mind? That he was becoming a schizophrenic? A long drive was all he needed – fresh air through his vents.

"Where are you going?" Arcee inquired, as Bumblebee eased into first gear.

I'll be back soon, he assured her in falsely-upbeat tones. The last thing he needed was for her to worriedly tell Optimus he'd taken off for no reason, and end up having the whole team out searching for him.

Without another word, Bumblebee gunned his engine and left the others in a cloud of dust. He didn't look back in his mirrors, and nor did he even consider opening his comlink channel. All he thought about was putting as much space between himself and everyone else as quickly as mechanically possible.

_What's the matter, little Autobot? Afraid I'm contagious?_

Bumblebee tried his best to ignore the voice, and the quiet peal of soft laughter that followed it.

_Well, fear not – I'm quite secure here, inside your head. Ironic, isn't it…that your venturing into my mind is the reason why we are having this conversation._

It's not a conversation when only one person is talking, Bumblebee thought bitterly.

_Quite true! You're smarter than you seem…though not by much._

As he took a gentle bend in the dirt road at high speed, the scout found himself unable to ignore the voice any longer. You can hear my thoughts? he asked suspiciously.

_Of course I can, you fool. I'm inside your mind, am I not? Where do you think thoughts are?_

You're not real, Bumblebee denied; Raf was right – I have a glitch in my system.

_Indeed you do…a glitch by the name of Megatron._


	3. Out Of Sorts

"Optimus," Ratchet called, staring up at the translucent green monitors in the command centre. Arcee glanced across to him in vague interest, seated on the panelled floor with Raf perched on her knee, as the Autobot commander turned his attention toward the medic from the opposite side of the room. "We're getting a call from Agent Fowler on the priority line. Should I patch it through?"

"Proceed," Optimus replied, stepping forward with Bulkhead in tow. Miko and Jack were seated on the ex-Wrecker's broad shoulders, the latter still picking stones and dirt from the hems of his jeans after that afternoon's little escapade in the desert. Once they neared the control panels, Jack shot an inquisitive glance Arcee's way. She shrugged her shoulders in silent response, careful not to dislodge Raf with the movement.

The central monitor displayed a static image of the Autobot's 'liaison to the outside world'; the stern-faced government suit by the name of William Fowler. As Ratchet hit a key on the control panel, a second image popped up beside the photograph. This one was a fluctuating graph of levels, moving with accordance to the curt voice that abruptly cut across the comlink.

"Prime!"

"Jerk," muttered Bulkhead.

"Agent Fowler," Optimus began coolly, approaching the monitors as Ratchet stepped to one side. "To what do we owe this pleasure?"

"Save it," Fowler's voice shot in irritable reply. "I don't know what language you 'bots speak on your planet, but you promised me that your little group would stay _under_ the radar. On Earth, 'under the radar' does _not_ mean speeding through city centres and committing just about every traffic violation known to man!"

"I am uncertain as to what you are referring," said Optimus, a hint of suspicion in his tone. Jack and Miko exchanged surprised looks, while Raf glanced uncertainly up at Arcee. The female Autobot's faceplates were arranged into an incredulous expression, mirroring those of Bulkhead and Ratchet. "Perhaps you could educate us on the situation."

Fowler gave a bark of mirthless laughter before elaborating. "The _situation_ is your black-and-yellow custom muscle car," he explained flatly. Raf gave a small start on hearing his response, nerves spiking in his throat. "Don't you even keep tabs on your own soldiers, Prime?"

"Bumblebee has my full trust and support," Optimus dismissed, folding his arms calmly. "He is a loyal Autobot and, as such, I do not feel it necessary to monitor his every movement. However…if he is indeed breaking human law, I will investigate the matter myself."

"Make sure you do," was Fowler's huffy response. "Though, you'll have a hard time catching up to him. At the speed he was clocking, he's probably halfway to Nebraska by now."

Both images disappeared from the surface of the central monitor, leaving the Autobots staring at a flat green screen. There was a moment of silence in the command centre, broken only when Miko leaned forward on Bulkhead's shoulder.

"Bumblebee's going to Nebraska?" she asked.

"It's a figure of speech, Miko," Jack muttered, shaking his head.

Ratchet paid the humans little heed, instead fixing his sceptical stare on the tallest Transformer in the room. "Optimus," he began quietly. The commander dropped his pensive gaze to the floor, narrowing his optics in thought. "Do you suspect that agent Fowler is telling the truth?"

Optimus let his arms drop to his sides, and turned steadily to face Arcee and Raf. Neither of them had moved during the conversation with Fowler. On the contrary; the resident female seemed to be keeping unnaturally still – like she was trying not to draw attention to herself. "Rafael," Optimus pressed gently. "Arcee…is there anything you wish to tell me?"

Raf dropped his gaze to his trainers, studying their laces intently as he wondered how much his partner would want the others to know. He'd seemed pretty uncomfortable before. Arcee remained similarly silent, examining the scratches in her finish.

"'Bee was acting kinda weird earlier," Jack said abruptly. Optimus shifted his stare across to the eldest human present, who suddenly faltered under the weight of the others' attentions. "I mean…he nearly took Arcee off the road - _and_ he dumped Raf in the middle of the desert with us."

"It wasn't on purpose," Raf pleaded, automatically defending his partner. "He's just tired – he's not been sleeping, that's all."

"I was wondering why you three came in together," Ratchet mumbled, placing both hands on his hips. He fell silent for a second, thinking. "Hm…now that I recall, he approached me late last night. Bad dreams, I think it was."

"You didn't run a diagnostic on him?" Bulkhead asked in disbelief.

Ratchet glowered at the ex-Wrecker. "Dreams are just dreams, Bulkhead," he shot defensively. "Not a medical condition."

"Even so," Optimus intervened, settling the argument before it could truly begin. "We cannot allow Agent Fowler's accusations to go unchecked. If Bumblebee is indeed in some form of trouble, we must investigate and assist him. Ratchet; try to get a lock on his coordinates and determine his destination, and prepare to Bridge us out shortly. Bulkhead; you will remain here and guard the children. Arcee and I will bring Bumblebee home."

As the Autobots prepared to perform their designated tasks, Raf felt Arcee's finger gently poking into his back. He hopped down from her knee, turning to stare pleadingly up at her as she rose to her feet and dwarfed him. Her expression softened when she saw his face; she knew what he wanted to say.

"I wanna come with," he begged, moving close enough to place both hands on her shin.

She leaned away, trying to remain stubborn, but Raf was a child whose imploring eyes could get him anything he wanted. "Oh…alright," she eventually conceded, shoulders slackening in defeat. "But don't let Optimus see you, okay? You'll get the both of us in trouble."


	4. The Devil's Demonstration

_I don't suppose you are willing to explain where we're going?_

_We_ aren't going anywhere, Bumblebee snapped as he overtook a dawdling pickup truck; I'm out for a drive – and you happen to be in the passenger seat.

…_So I see you've finally accepted your fate, then?_

The scout would have raised an eyebrow in response, had he been in robot mode, but as it was, he had to settle for silence. His tyres were aching; he'd been driving in high gear for megacycles. The surrounding landscape had become decidedly unfamiliar as the sky slowly darkened through its masks of crimson and violet; dilapidated buildings stood on either side of the paved road, some more battered by weather and human vandals than others. Judging from the lack of sand and dirt, he assumed it safe to say that he wasn't in Jasper anymore.

_You aren't trying to shoot down my confidence by telling me I'm not real anymore. When did you stop thinking that way, I wonder?_

I still think that way, Bumblebee told his tormentor sharply. Ahead; two cars were parked on opposite sides of the road, narrowing the open tarmac to the width of a single lane, but he didn't hit his brakes. Instead, he accelerated; clipping one of the car's rims as he narrowly avoided the path of oncoming traffic. As he sped away to the blares of furious horns, he was surprised to hear the car's alarm sounding as a result of the impact.

_Oh, this is wonderful – you're putting on a show for me! Your driving is truly reckless, Autobot…are you sure you don't have some Decepticon coding up here?_

Bumblebee slammed on his brakes at that, trying to shock the voice into silence. His passenger's presence was not physical, however; he only succeeded in prompting the drivers of vehicles behind him to pound on their horns and yell angrily from their windows. Bumblebee ignored the voice's lofty laughter, irritated, as he poured on the energon and sped back on his previous course.

_Truly spectacular! You would make a fine Vehicon, scout. When I am free, I may consider offering you a high rank in my army for being such a fine chauffeur!_

The speeding Autobot decided to take a different approach than ignorance, as the surrounding buildings gradually lessened in number and the dirt road returned. Where do you want to go, Lord Megatron? he asked in mocking tones.

_Hah. So you __have__ come to realise that you've no choice but to obey me._

No, Bumblebee replied coolly; I want to know so that I can drive you as far as I can in the opposite direction.

A sudden pain gripped Bumblebee's spark, so sharp and abrupt that his vision momentarily constricted to blackness. His steering wheel jerked to one side, actuators and valves contorting in spasm, as he found himself veering off the road and onto the rocky terrain. Filled with a blinding agony, Bumblebee barrelled across the dirt with no control over his own circuits – unable to steer or hit his brakes.

_I have been lenient with you thus far, scout. Let this be a warning; so long as I am inside your head, you will do as I say. Do you understand?_

The pain vanished as suddenly as it had begun, and Bumblebee wrenched roughly at his steering wheel the moment he regained control. But his speed was too great – he slid out in a dangerous three-sixty spin, kicking up great plumes of dust into the air, and came to a jerky halt far from the roadside. He remained motionless for a while, panting and aching as his engine ticked over. What was _that?_ He'd never felt anything like it – and was in no hurry to experience it again.

_I asked you a question, Autobot. Do you understand – or do I need to give you another demonstration?_

No! cried Bumblebee, trying not to let his fear show too much. No, I…I understand.

_Very good…you catch on quite quickly for one of Optimus Prime's lackeys._

Gingerly, the Autobot rotated his steering wheel and rolled back toward the surface of the road. Where do you want to go? he repeated shakily. Unlike the first time he had asked the question, however, his voice was not derisive.

_If you were able to engage a cortical psychic patch directly to my body, which is most likely located aboard my ship, then you know the location of the Nemesis. Am I correct in that assumption?_

…Yes, Bumblebee replied.

_Take me there, scout. I have a special task in mind for you…_


	5. Of Sparks And Hearts

Optimus and Arcee stepped smoothly out of the swirling green vortex that was the GroundBridge, finding themselves on the outskirts of a desert town far from Jasper. The Bridge closed behind them with a swift flare of energy, leaving no trace of its existence.

Optimus cast his troubled gaze over their run-down suburban surroundings, before raising a hand to press two digits over his audio receptor. "Ratchet," he began, opening a channel back to base. Arcee stepped off the road, facing away from him with one servo drawn up to her chestplate, and stared around at the dilapidated buildings. "We have arrived at the designated coordinates, but there is no sign of Bumblebee as of yet."

Partially-hidden in the crook of Arcee's arm, Raf stared apprehensively up at the female Autobot. "Do you think he's gonna be okay?" he whispered. Arcee cleared her vocal processor, signalling for the human to be quiet, but shrugged her shoulders discretely in response. Raf's expression darkened into anxiety and he shrank back against her metal, already regretting breaking Optimus' request that he stay back at base.

"My scans indicate that he is approaching your position from the southwest," came the medic's voice over the comlink. "He should be within your sights shortly."

As if on cue, the distant sound of a powerful engine rose above the silence of the desert night. Arcee and Optimus turned to face the noise, spotting a growing cloud of dust on the horizon. Rafael found his heart in his mouth, watching with bated breath as his partner's vehicle form materialised through the shimmering heat-haze.

Bumblebee glimpsed his fellow Autobots across the desert as he tore along the dirt road, but seeing his comrades didn't stir the usual rush of glee. On the contrary; his spark sank a little deep inside his chassis, and – for a split second – he considered veering off-course to drive around them. He knew they'd give chase, and that Optimus wasn't fast enough to keep pace with him. Arcee was, however – but it wouldn't be overly difficult to shake her. He braced himself to go off-road, but suddenly found his steering wheel locked in place as a soft breath of laughter sent shivers through his superstructure.

_Ah…well if it isn't my old nemesis, Optimus Prime. How fortunate…_

They've got nothing to do with this, Bumblebee pleaded. Try as he might, he couldn't turn the wheel an inch. His route was set – directly over the top of his teammates.

_Oh, they have __everything__ to do with this. Do not change your course. Run them down!_

Arcee took a shocked step backwards; Bumblebee wasn't slowing down. For the second time that day, she found herself staring into the scout's rapidly-approaching grille. The Autobot commander, on the other hand, stood his ground, watching with narrowed optics as the yellow muscle car charged directly toward them over the bumpy terrain. Was he asleep at the wheel? It didn't look like it – but something told Optimus that Bumblebee wasn't the one in the driver's seat.

Less than a nanoklik before the speeding scout was in servo's reach, Optimus and Arcee threw themselves in opposite directions – leaping off the dirt road as their comrade ploughed clean through the space they had occupied mere moments before. Arcee's momentum carried her several metres; flipping upright, she deposited a rather shocked Raf on the ground behind a beat-up old pickup. "Stay here and hide," she hissed under her breath, glancing at Optimus. The commander was crouched in the dirt, thankfully still unaware of the human's presence.

Bumblebee found himself screeching to a spinning halt, despite never touching his brakes for fear of castigation. The next thing he knew, he was watching Arcee and Optimus rise to their feet through his windshield. Scrap, he thought; what am I gonna do now?

"Are you out of your fraggin' processor?" Arcee demanded, brandishing her fist. Not for the first time today, the scout was glad that his vehicle mode lacked a face as he cowered under the weight of her scowl. "What's wrong with you lately?"

"Stand down, Arcee," Optimus rumbled, stepping forwards. The cycle Transformer seemed to calm down some, but Optimus' stare on the scout's hood was far heavier than hers could ever be. "Bumblebee…what do you mean by charging at your friends in such a dangerous manner?"

He said nothing, wishing a ravine would open in the ground and swallow him whole. The thought shattered, however, as the sound of an icy sigh swept over his frame.

_The quality of your aim appears to be nothing close to your obedience, scout. But no matter…I've heard that your melee skills are fractionally more impressive._

Melee skills? repeated Bumblebee. Optimus and Arcee exchanged curious glances, but the scout didn't have chance to dwell on his mistake of replying aloud. He suddenly found himself thrown upright – forced into robot mode with no recollection of initiating his transformation sequence. He staggered forward, surprised – but caught himself as he realised what was being asked of him. He shook his head frantically, stepping back – soon flinching as a sudden pain slashed across his chest.

_What are you waiting for, you fool? Attack them!_

I won't! he thought desperately, trying to turn away from his comrades – but the pain swiftly deepened and locked his servos in place. Bumblebee panicked, fighting for control, as his body doubled over of its own accord.

_Fine, you gutless little Autobot. But hear me – if you won't attack Optimus Prime, __I__ will!_

Heat surged through the scout's circuits like wildfire, constricting his vision to a narrow tunnel swamped by darkness. He'd lost the ability to breathe, to move – and yet, it felt like he was moving. He heard Optimus grunt in surprise all of a sudden; struggling to clear his optics, he could just make out his commander's unnerved faceplates through the agony. There was pain in his body now, a different kind than before – physical hurt. He could see something else too, something swiping back and forth so fast and erratically that it blurred. The glass in the panes before Optimus' chestplate shattered, and Bumblebee felt a hot wetness on his knuckles. With a horrified start, he realised that the blurred objects were his own fists – leaking energon from repeated contact with the glass.

"What're you doing?" he heard Arcee cry from somewhere behind him. He felt her seize his servos – the servos that no longer responded to his commands but to the will of another – though her grip didn't last long. Whatever wavering vision he had abruptly flipped before Arcee slammed down in front of him, on her back in the dirt, as though wrenched clean off her feet.

_Interfering cretin…finish her!_

Bumblebee felt the panels of his arms shift and redistribute as he found himself looming over her, and the sight of his own forearm-blasters soon swam into view. They were aimed directly at Arcee's head – she was staring down their barrels, into the charging blue glow of energon, in shocked disbelief. Her expression, those betrayed optics as she looked up at him, tore at his spark more than the nightmares or pain combined. Disregarding the burning resistance, he clawed desperately for control over his own body. Not Arcee…not anyone! He couldn't pull away, able to feel his servos shaking with the effort – but he wouldn't let Megatron pull the trigger on his friends.

"Bumblebee!" yelped a small, terrified voice.

He forced his dilated optics away from Arcee, peering through the darkness for the source of the sound. It was Raf – the tiny, spectacled human was sprinting across the rocky ground towards him, tears streaming from his eyes. Optimus called the human's name, warning him back, but Rafael kept running straight for his partner. He flung himself against Bumblebee's shin, staring fearfully up at the struggling scout.

"Let him go!" Raf demanded, forcing anger into his eyes. Bumblebee gawped down at the human, unnerved. Did…did he _know?_ "Hear me? You leave my friend alone!"

_Hah! Pitiful human – you think you can challenge __me__?_

_He_ doesn't have to, Bumblebee thought angrily. He shuttered his optics, vividly aware of Raf's hands on the metal of his lower leg. His spark felt hot, but the cool sensation of feeling and control began to seep through his systems – originating from the soft warmth of Raf's skin. As he forced his shaking arms downward, the scout heard an astounded exclamation in the depths of his mind.

_What…what are you doing?_

Rafael watched his partner grapple with himself, too focused on the scout to notice Optimus helping Arcee carefully to her feet behind him. "You can do it, 'Bee," he encouraged quietly, forcing a smile. "I'm right here."

All of a sudden, the components of Bumblebee's forearms snapped back into their original formation. The abrupt movement made the human jump, but he didn't lift his hands from his partner's shin. Bumblebee's shoulders slackened as he let out a fatigued sigh and opened his optics, one slightly more slowly than the other as though waking from a dream, and stared, gasping for air, down at Rafael. After a moment of silence, Raf's smile became genuine; and he let out a tiny breath of laughter.

Bumblebee sank to his knees in the desert dirt, exhausted but in full control of himself. Rafael climbed up onto his lap as Optimus began to approach them; Arcee made to help the commander walk, but he denied her efforts with a simple raising of the hand. "Arcee; assist Bumblebee to his feet," he said. As she turned reluctantly away from him, Optimus reactivated his comlink and gazed sadly down at the youngest member of the Autobot Earth team. "Ratchet; prepare to Bridge us back to base. We have located our scout…but I believe he requires immediate medical attention."

Arcee crouched in front of Bumblebee, a mixture of emotions clashing on her faceplates. The scout couldn't bring himself to look her in the optics at first, but gave a start as she extended one slender hand before his face. "Let's get you home, partner," she smiled.

_How touching. Too bad this won't save you in the long run._

Bumblebee ignored the voice; he took Arcee's hand and allowed her to help haul him upright, but found himself too tired to stay on his feet. He fell against her, unable to support his own weight – but she supported it for him. The GroundBridge burst open beside them as Raf secured himself on Bumblebee's shoulder, granting a safe passage home.

_You may have won this battle, Autobot…but your strength will not last forever. Sooner or later, your nerve will fail – and when it does…I will be ready._


	6. Sickbay

"Well, whatever it is…it's not a nano-virus," Ratchet muttered, folding his arms in thought. "It's also not the Unicron virus, since there is a distinct lack of discolouration about his exostructure."

Standing beside him with both hands on her hips, Arcee let her optics traverse the length of the Autobot sickbay to rest on Bumblebee's dejected-looking form. He was sitting on one of the examination tables, slouched with Raf perched in his lap, silently watching as Jack and Miko bickered about some triviality or other in front of him. "What about a regular old glitch?" Arcee suggested, frowning at the humans' attempts to act as though nothing was wrong. On Ratchet's other side, Bulkhead traced the digits of one hand slowly along the curve of his jaw.

The medic shook his head. "I've executed multiple diagnostics on his circuitry," he sniffed, as though he suspected her of doubting his medical skills. "His coding's as clean as it's ever been, Arcee."

"Okay, I was just asking…" mumbled the cycle Transformer, evasive.

The sound of heavy footsteps announced Optimus' arrival in the sickbay. He cast his melancholic optics toward the scout, but did not engage him – instead, he approached his other subordinates. Arcee, Ratchet and Bulkhead straightened up at once; anxious to hear what their commander had to report.

"How fared your discussion with agent Fowler?" asked Ratchet.

"I have assured him that we have the situation under full control," Optimus replied, his voice unusually quiet. "He has graciously agreed to cover the cost of the small amount of damage that Bumblebee inflicted on passing vehicles this afternoon, and informs me that no humans witnessed the earlier…_incident_ in the desert."

Arcee let out a tiny, reassured sigh – but her fellow Autobots didn't seem to share her sense of relief. Instead, they exchanged dark glances as Miko gave a particularly loud hoot of laughter from across the room. Her exclamation of mirth had clearly been made at Jack's expense, as it was soon followed by a string of embarrassed protests.

"That aside," Optimus began, effortlessly regaining the others' attentions. "I'm afraid we are faced with graver concerns. Have you made any progress, Ratchet?"

Again, the medic shook his head. "I'm afraid not," he sighed, frustrated. "Put bluntly, I have no idea what's wrong with him. All I've managed to do so far is compile a list of all the things that his malfunction _can't_ be – and let me tell you, it's a pretty long list."

Bulkhead folded his arms, breaking the tension with an abrupt hiss of breath. "Ask me…you're not working hard enough, Docbot," he grumbled. Ratchet gawped at him. "'Bee might not have a lotta time, and you're standin' here listing diseases that haven't been seen for stellar cycles?"

"Do not patronise me, Bulkhead," the medic snapped, turning fearlessly on the much larger Autobot. "Need I remind you that we are _stranded_ here on this planet, with primitive technology and a limited supply of advanced medical tools? Short of forcing him into stasis lock and yanking out his central processor for a few cycles – something I'm trying _not_ to resort to – there isn't a great deal I can do for him right now!"

"Hey!" Arcee cried, forcing herself between them to place her hands on their chestplates. "Now's not the time to be fighting."

"Arcee is correct…as is Bulkhead," Optimus frowned. The medic dropped his sullen gaze to the panelled floor, silent, as the ex-Wrecker gawped at their commander. "We do not know the severity of Bumblebee's condition, and therefore cannot afford to waste time by bickering amongst ourselves."

"…Sorry, Optimus," muttered Ratchet, not raising his optics from the floor. "I'm just worried, is all…"

"As are we," replied the commander. He then turned to face the scout and humans, whose eyes and optics were directed apprehensively toward this side of the room. Miko and Jack averted their stares as soon as Optimus began to move, pretending not to have noticed the commotion.

He made his way across the sickbay, walking right up to the humans, and carefully took a seat beside Bumblebee on the examination table. Due to their difference in height, his knees were bent at a much sharper angle than those of the scout – but if he was uncomfortable, Optimus didn't let it show. His wasn't the most important well-being right now.

"So…" Jack began, scratching the back of his head uneasily. Beside him, standing in front of the seated Autobots like a Yorkshire terrier waiting to perform, Miko linked her hands behind her back and gave an encouraging smile. "Any updates?"

"None as of yet," Optimus answered softly. He then turned his soft gaze toward Bumblebee, who looked away at once. Optimus' faceplates rearranged into a sympathetic smile, as he wondered what must have been going through the scout's mind whilst staring at his commander's repaired chestplate. "How are you feeling?"

With an unenthusiastic chord from his vocal processor, Bumblebee shrugged his shoulders. I'm okay, he said; I've been better, but…okay.

Optimus nodded his head, empathy strong in his smile, as the others followed him across the room. "Ratchet informs us you've been having some bad dreams of late," he pressed. "Would you like to tell us about them?"

Bumblebee hesitated for a moment, only finding the confidence to answer his superior's question when Raf gave an encouraging nod. It's always the same dream, he began uncomfortably; I can't see where I am…but I know I'm aboard the Nemesis. I'm a closed-off area in their sickbay – standing in front of…in front of…

He couldn't bring himself to say the name out loud. Arcee folded her arms, as good as able to read his mind. She could picture it perfectly, able to remember their infiltration of the Decepticon trip as though it happened yesterday. That darkened room, the tilted examination table, the fluctuating monitors, the stench of charred metal hanging in the air like some toxic pathogen. And at the centre of it all; the broken, twisted, lifeless body that simply refused to let its accursed spark burn out.

"Megatron…?" growled Optimus, as Bulkhead raised an eyebrow.

Bumblebee nodded. He's in stasis lock, he continued; but I can feel him watching me. I hear his voice…he tries to manipulate me – sometimes outside of the dream, too.

"You hear Megatron's _voice?_" the medic repeated. Bumblebee fell silent – more so than usual – and replied with a single nod of the head. He felt incredibly awkward; the others, Autobot and human alike, were all staring at him as though an extra servo had sprouted from his forehead. The medic seemed to recover first; he drew one hand up to trace the contours of his mouth, deep in thought.

"Any opinions, Ratchet?" asked Optimus, as Arcee and Bulkhead exchanged incredulous glances.

"It _could_ just be mental trauma, as a result of the cortical psychic patch," the medic suggested. The scout furrowed his brow. Mental trauma? "After all, the only data we have on the procedure is purely theoretical; it was outlawed by Autobots long before the War ended, so it's not like anyone had chance to study the process' after-effects. Who knows how entering the mind of a Decepticon – especially one as powerful as Megatron's himself – might affect an Autobot's psyche. Either way…I'd like to run some more tests, just to be sure."

Bumblebee stared at his knees, nervous. After taking a moment to reflect on Ratchet's words, Optimus gave a sudden sigh and rose once again to his feet. "The hour is late, Autobots," he stated lightly. Miko glanced at her mobile phone for a split second, and gave a slight start as she realised how correct the commander was in his announcement. "Arcee, Bulkhead; please escort Jack, Miko and Rafael home. I'd then like the both of you to return to base and remain here for tonight. The humans should be safe in their houses; Decepticon activity has been scarce as of late, and it is unlikely they will present themselves with their leader still out of commission."

Arcee and Bulkhead both made to collect their respective human partners – but Raf scrambled to his feet, still atop Bumblebee's knee, before either of them could reach for him. "I wanna stay here," he mumbled, not quite meeting Optimus' optic.

The commander smiled gravely down at the smallest human. "I understand how you feel, Rafael," he began. "But your parents will wonder where you are if you do not return home tonight. It is best that you go back to where there is a human-sized sleeping area waiting for you."

"But…" Raf protested timidly. "But I-"

Bumblebee poked the spectacled human gently in the back, nudging him toward Bulkhead and Arcee. Raf stared up at him in mild surprise, unable to read the scout's false expression.

"Will you be okay?" the human asked.

Bumblebee forced a cheerful note though his vocal processor in response, knowing that Optimus was right. As Bulkhead dropped into vehicle mode and opened his passenger doors, however, the scout found himself filled with a sense of ghastly loneliness. He watched sadly as Miko and Raf climbed inside and secured themselves behind the ex-Wrecker's seatbelts, Jack already donning his bicycle helmet as Arcee similarly switched forms. The sound of two feisty engines suddenly filled the base, as Ratchet headed through to the command centre to operate the GroundBridge controls.

"Perhaps you should get some rest, Bumblebee," Optimus suggested. The scout stared to the side, trying not to think about the unavoidable sight that would greet him behind closed optics. "Until the others return…I can remain with you here, if it's what you wish."

Alone with Optimus? The scout didn't really think that was such a good idea, for some reason. The commander seemed to understand; he bode his fellow Autobot goodnight, wished him a speedy recovery, and then silently left the sickbay with the others.

Bumblebee waited until Optimus had gone before swivelling where he sat, bringing both legs up onto the examination table to lie flat on his back. Staring up at the blank ceiling, he suddenly felt utterly alone – or as alone as he could be, with the mind of a monster lurking somewhere deep inside his head. He rolled onto his side, optics shuttered tightly, and waited for the inevitable.


	7. In Darkest Dreams

Torrential rain cascaded through the depths of Kaon, washing the serrated metal streets in a cold sheen of melancholy. Electric-purple clouds suffocated the stars like a toxic shroud – mercilessly drowning the streets as Seekers swept in for landing, their engines generating gusts of vicious wind that whipped the rain into an icy frenzy. Twisted columns of dark energon arced between towering, jagged structures like metallic arteries; sprawling deeper into the city where the overhead observation decks grew into a complexly-knit weave of cables and platforms.

Bumblebee passed through the streets of Kaon unnoticed, a yellow ghost in the realm of indigo. He glanced up at the canopy of interlacing wires, so much like that of a mechanical rainforest, with cautious optics. He was dreaming – he had to be; Kaon didn't exist like this anymore. The fact that none of the plentiful Vehicons nearby noticed his presence similarly suggested that the world around him was nothing but a reconstruction. The lone problem with that theory was that Bumblebee had never seen the Decepticon capital like this before – so whose reconstruction was it?

His chest felt uncomfortably tight; as he walked, the scout was vividly aware of his spark blazing in its chamber. The pain was not unbearable, however – focusing on the sensation of rain hitting his armour plating was enough to cool his circuits. He walked on through the nightmare, through the chaos of the dark city, searching for an exit.

"How do you like my little realm, Autobot?"

Bumblebee stopped dead in his tracks, heavy rain bouncing noisily off his chassis, and stared around in surprise. That voice…it couldn't be…

"I made it just for you – you should feel _honoured_. You've been such a good host that I felt compelled to reward you in some way. Does my offering please you?"

Filled with dread, the scout slowly turned around to face the source of the voice – and found his optics met by a sinister smirk. The face of his nightmares watched him freeze up through the rain; Bumblebee stared, horrified and rooted to the spot, at the literal embodiment of all his fears come to life. Rain slid like poison from those jagged shoulders, swept over the broad chestplate that was branded with the mark of Decepticon, fell to splash down around those lethal-looking feet. The scarred faceplates rearranged without a sound, disfigured lips stretching in a cruel smirk over jagged teeth.

Bumblebee forced life into his servos, taking a jerky step backward. His movement achieved nothing, other than stirring a quiet laugh in the Decepticon's vocal processor.

"Why so afraid, scout?" Megatron asked softly. He gave an aimless gesture with one sharp hand, the rain-drenched barrel of his arm-mounted cannon glistening as he moved. "I'm not real, remember? Or…am I?"

The following nanoklik ensued so rapidly that Bumblebee was only able to work out what happened afterwards. Swifter than lightning, Megatron unsheathed the blade in his forearm and leaped across the stretch of sodden ground separating him from the Autobot – slashing clean into the scout's chestplate with a ruthless flick of the servo. Bumblebee staggered back in shock, a pained whine escaping his vocal processor as droplets of his still-hot energon splattered to the ground.

"I suppose I should thank you," breathed the Decepticon, as the freshly-stained blade suddenly retracted into his arm. Clutching the wound in his chassis, Bumblebee watched as Megatron stooped slightly in a mock-appreciatory bow. "If it weren't for you; I would still be confined as a prisoner to the depths of my own mind."

What do you want? demanded Bumblebee.

"Keen to get to the point, I see," Megatron murmured, straightening up. "So be it. As spectacular a home as your head is, I'm afraid I wish to return to my own body. Seeing how you refused to escort me to my ship earlier, I've decided to take matters into my own hands…and that's where _this place_ comes in."

The scout creased his brow apprehensively. He had managed to stem the flow of energon from his wound, but felt no more reassured than when his blood was coursing freely. This place? he repeated.

"Haven't you figured it out yet?" jeered the Decepticon. "Put two and two together, you worthless hunk of scrap metal. Where are we?"

Bumblebee didn't dare remove his optics from Megatron's face to inspect their surroundings. Kaon, he replied; the Decepticon capital city on Cybertron.

"Very good…and what exactly _is_ Kaon?"

With a small start, the scout realised the significance of their location. It's a prison, he replied uneasily.

"Exactly," stated Megatron, folding his arms. "This is a prison – for Autobots."

A sudden agony ripped across Bumblebee's spark, so abrupt and intense that it brought him crashing to his knees. Half-blinded by the pain; he clutched his chest with one hand, supporting his weight with the other, until Megatron's foot collided sharply with his side. Bumblebee found himself flat on his back, writhing in the cold veil of water on the ground, just able to make out the Decepticon's jagged silhouette looming over him through a death-black fog. He couldn't keep his gasps and groans inside; it felt as though someone had speared his chest clean through with a white-hot iron stake.

"As much as it will pain me to wear the insignia donned by my oldest enemy…I need your body, Autobot," Megatron stated, pity all but absent from his silky voice. The scout struggled at his feet, unable to breathe, clawing at his own headlights in sightless terror. "I care not what you do here – your mind is doomed to rot within the confines of this prison I have built for you, while I claim your body to achieve my own ends. A reasonable exchange, no?"

Pinned down by agony, Bumblebee could only watch as the Decepticon leader straightened up and turned slowly on his heel. He thrashed weakly, helplessly, shuttering his optics against the pain, as Megatron began to walk away – and vanished into the darkness.


	8. Resurrection

_He_ awoke; feeling the sweet sensation of control flooding the new, unfamiliar circuits that were finally at his complete disposal. _He_ knew where he was; the primitive laboratory equipment surrounding him could only belong in the Autobot sickbay. His Decepticon forces would never use such inundated technology. _He_ eased himself upright from the examination table on which his host had lain, and took a second to examine his new body. Disgusting, he thought. The bright yellow chassis that stood beneath him was the furthest thing from impressive – but it would serve its purpose for the moment.

"Ah, Bumblebee – you're awake."

He turned and watched the Autobots' medical officer enter the sickbay, unmoving as the amber-and-white Transformer casually crossed the panelled floor toward one of the nearby monitors. What luck, he thought. Ratchet – one of Prime's little _pets_ – seemed somewhat preoccupied; he came to a halt before the screen and began to tap rhythmically on its keyboard.

"I'm not too sure that you should be up on your feet quite yet," he muttered, in a slightly pinched voice. "I mean – it's good to see you're feeling better, but you shouldn't push yourself."

Ratchet turned to face his patient – but froze when he saw the scout standing inches before him. He hadn't heard or seen Bumblebee move; but through his surprise, he noticed something strange about the scout. He seemed to be holding himself differently, somehow – or was it that stern expression on his faceplates?

"Bumblebee?" he asked, uncertain. He creased his brow, studying his fellow Autobot's strangely small pupils. "What's wrong with your optics?"

Ratchet doubled over, winded, as the scout's clenched fist suddenly buried itself into his lower torso. He fell to his knees, wheezing and surprised, and recoiled with a sharp cry as his patient stomped hard on his back, knocking the medic flat on the floor.

_Bumblebee's not here,_ Megatron informed him through the scout's damaged vocal processor. Ratchet stared up at him in shock, flinching as the Decepticon pressed Bumblebee's full weight onto the medic's chassis. _Now…take me to the Nemesis, or I will terminate your miserable life._

"Optimus!" Ratchet gasped, impulsively activating his comlink as he struggled to prise himself free. "Optimus – I need you in sickbay! It's-!"

Megatron snarled, kicking the medic hard in the side to silence him. Ratchet collided noisily with the base of the examination table as he rolled away from the impact, moaning in pain. _Foolish Autobot!_ the Decepticon growled, as he seized Ratchet's wrist and dragged him back onto his feet. He forced the scout's free arm into its weapon mode – but the sound of rapidly-approaching footsteps prevented him from making true on his promise.

Optimus, Arcee and Bulkhead froze upon the sight that greeted their optics as they charged through the sickbay entrance. Megatron, in the body of their comrade, had grabbed the medic around the neck and was pressing the barrel of the scout's blaster into the side of Ratchet's head. Ratchet, realising himself too tightly pinned to pull free, watched in silence as Jack, Miko and Raf ran inside between the others' feet. The humans, too, stopped dead in their tracks – jaws dropping as their eyes fell upon the scene within – as Arcee and Bulkhead hesitantly raised their weapons.

_I suggest you remain where you are, Autobot filth,_ Megatron threatened softly, jabbing the blaster against Ratchet's temple. _Not unless you wish to see the internals of this fool's processor strewn all over the floor._

Optimus held out an arm, blocking the others' targeting systems, but said nothing. At his feet, Rafael chewed his lip and studied Bumblebee's aggressive stance. Though his body had been completely overrun by the mind of the Decepticon leader, Raf could sense that his partner was still in there – somewhere. He'd reached Bumblebee before, hadn't he? Maybe he could do it again.

"Take me instead!" he cried all of a sudden, stepping forward. Jack made to pull him back, shocked, but Raf ducked beneath his peer's arms and ran further into the room – against the others' protests. He dashed toward his partner, determined to bring him around. "I'll be your hostage – just don't hurt Ratchet!"

_As you wish,_ Megatron replied. He pushed Ratchet forcefully away from him, causing him to stagger into a nearby examination table, and charged without warning toward the Autobots. They, Jack and Miko scattered in all directions as he neared; watching in horror as he swiped Rafael up off the floor. Megatron didn't stop on obtaining his new hostage – he sprinted out of the sickbay and down the unfamiliar corridor, able to hear the Autobots giving frantic chase as he hurried through into the command centre.

"Bumblebee!" Raf called, unpleasantly surprised by the strength of the three metal fingers that enclosed his body. His captor came to a halt before the tunnel that spawned the GroundBridge, ignoring the human's voice as he stared around for the exit. "Come on, 'Bee, I'm here now – wake up!"

_That little trick won't work a second time; your friend can't hear you anymore, _sneered Megatron. As Raf realised the enormity of his mistake, the Decepticon turned to watch the Autobots arrive. He showed them his struggling, kicking captive – basking in the fear on their faceplates. _Now…Bridge me aboard the Nemesis this instant – or I will crush this puny creature like the insect that it is._

Arcee hesitated, powering down her weapons as Bulkhead similarly lowered his fists, but Ratchet looked nervously to Optimus for instructions. The Autobot commander stared into his scout's possessed optics, faceplates stern and unreadable. Growing impatient, Megatron strengthened his grip of the tiny human. Raf gasped for breath, able to feel the pressure building in his lungs.

"Ratchet," Optimus began coolly. "Lock the GroundBridge's co-ordinates onto the location of the Decepticon command ship immediately."

With a clenched jaw, the medic obeyed his orders. Megatron had never put much faith into the concept of friendships – let alone those between Transformers and humans – other than the form they took now, as an object of manipulation. He ignored Raf's feeble struggles as Ratchet operated the GroundBridge controls, Jack and Miko exchanging wordless glances as the swirling green-pink mass of energy burst to life near the end of the tunnel. The Decepticon glanced over his shoulder, inspecting the Bridge, and gave a triumphant breath of laughter that was lost in Bumblebee's destroyed vocoder.

_Do not be disillusioned;_ he said, as he stepped slowly backward into the tunnel. The Autobots stood their ground, fists and jaws clenched as they watched their comrade's possessed body retreat. _If even one of you so much as considers following me, I will kill this human – __and__ your weak-minded scout, as well._

Bumblebee and Raf were suddenly engulfed by a rush of fluid light, disappearing from the Autobot base. Pitched backward, Megatron staggered as he felt his feet hit solid ground less than a nanoklik later – and found himself standing in a familiar pitch-black corridor. In his grip, Raf fell motionless; filled with stark terror as his eyes readjusted to the darkness of the Nemesis.

Without a word, Megatron started forward. He could sense his true body up ahead, like a beacon in the blackness – but made an abrupt turning as the corridor branched, heading deeper through the bowels of his ship. Regaining his own body would have to wait – there was something else down here that took priority.

"What are you going to do with me…?" Raf asked, fearful.

Megatron ignored him, coming to a smooth halt before an unmarked door at the end of the hall. He raised the scout's free hand and pressed a nearby panel; Raf flinched as the doorway slid open with a sinister hissing sound.

The chamber inside, dark as night, was tinted with a faint purplish glow, its angled floor connected to the ceiling by a cylindrical tube of glass that stood at the heart of the room. Within the tube grew an outsized cluster of jagged crystals, radiating sinister orchid-coloured light, like a twisted heart.

The Decepticon approached the glass chamber without hesitation, again disregarding Raf's frightened whimpers. He reached inside the tube, seizing and snapping free a thin sliver of the Dark Energon within. With prize in hand, Megatron turned on his heel and exited the room – heading for the Decepticon sickbay.

Two Transformers were already inside, standing on either side of Megatron's original body, one he recognised and one he didn't. On his lifeless shell's left stood the eternally loyal and eternally silent Soundwave, sleek arms folded beneath his Deployer-adorned chestplate. On the right, standing before the spark-support monitors, was a slick red Decepticon whose name and identity Megatron did not know. He studied the stranger's build and back-mounted tyres, deducing with suspicion that this outsider was not a Seeker.

The stranger glanced up as the sickbay door sprang open, his white faceplates displaying surprise as he spotted the Autobot scout standing in the entrance. He took an offensive stance and produced an energon prod from behind his back, smirking. "I know you," he drawled, as the tip of the prod began to crackle and spark.

Megatron stood his ground, but was spared the inconvenience of a fight as Soundwave extended a slender servo to block the stranger's path. Megatron stared into the spy's expressionless mask, allowing himself to be scrutinised for several wordless moments. The red-painted stranger noticed Rafael, raising a sleek eyebrow at the sight of the terrified-looking human.

Soundwave stepped gracefully aside, gesturing an elongated hand toward the motionless body of his master. The stranger lowered his weapon, thoroughly confused, as the Autobot stepped coolly into the room. Raf began to struggle again, fighting feebly for his freedom – but gasped as the scout's hand suddenly released him. Raf tumbled through the air, the breath rushing from his lungs as he hit the metal floor with a quiet thud. Sprawled and winded on the floor of the Nemesis, Raf watched as the Decepticon inhabiting his partner's mind clutched the Dark Energon shard with both hands – plunging it into the spark chamber of Megatron's body. The monitor readings spiked without warning, but quickly flat-lined again.

_Bring me the patch cable!_ commanded Megatron. The Decepticon named Knockout flinched, hastily retrieving something from a nearby storage panel. It was the cable that the Autobots had used to initiate the cortical psychic patch. Megatron swiped it from the medic's sleek hands, jamming one end of the cable into a port on the back of the Autobot scout's head. He then approached his own body, gazing almost irritably down at its comatose face, and connected the other end of the cable above the base of his own neck.

Bumblebee's body suddenly convulsed in a powerful spasm, as though he'd received a powerful electric shock – the scout's servos and head jerked back as Megatron's optics snapped open, but Raf paid the Decepticons little heed. The human picked himself up and dashed forward as Bumblebee crumpled limply to the floor, throwing himself down beside his partner's slackened shoulder. A split second later, Bumblebee's optics flickered online and he stared around shakily; watching as the one who had inhabited his mind wrenched the cable from the back of his head.

"Decepticons!" Megatron announced, on his feet with fiery optics blazing in ominous triumph. "Your rightful Lord and master has returned!"


End file.
